The Paper Crown

48. Damn the Crown

Celina is gone with five minutes to spare until midday. I stand on the front steps and watch her coach and the wagon behind it roll away. She was weeping as she got into the carriage, and her maid had to support her. I feel sorry for the maid, having to go to live in a distant mountain village, knowing no one, perhaps leaving loved ones behind. I have no sympathy for Celina. I am only disgusted by her tears.

Dowager Duchess Maria stands with me until the wagon disappears beyond the first gate and the dust settles behind it. I imagine Lord Tarnuv told her what happened in the sitting room. I am sure she is clever enough to guess at the parts he did not witness.

"Why did you not tell me they were lovers?" I ask.

"I never believed it to be more than a youthful dalliance, and as far as I know, it ended long ago. I did not think it right to bring it up." She sighs. "Perhaps I have wronged you. I am sorry."

I look at her. How old is she? She has to be someway past forty, and the hard lines etched on her brow do little to disguise the years. What does she know of youthful dalliance? She married King Adam when she was just sixteen. Was there some illicit love affair at fifteen? But that could not compare to an affair between a man and woman of twenty-three, and I cannot see Duchess Maria indulging in an affaire de coeur outside her marriage. She is too well-disciplined.

But she is a handsome woman, even with youth a long way behind her. She has fine bones, which look all the more delicate for the sparseness of the flesh over them, and her eyes are prettily shaped within soft brown lashes. I think her relationship with Tarnuv must be more than friendship. Perhaps her experience with dalliance is more recent. All the same, hers is likely the only apology I will receive for this insult.

"Mariusz is going to be very angry with me," I say. "Can you talk to him for me?"

She looks at me through narrowed eyes for a long moment then shakes her head. "You must sort your disagreements yourselves. Mariusz is usually quite forgiving, after you allow him some time for bad temper."

"It is not his forgiveness I worry about. It is mine. How can I forgive him when he keeps a love affair secret from me? She was in his room, Madame. She came into his room."

Duchess Maria looks at where the dust from the coach is now settled to a thin haze above the ground. "And what did he do when she did?"

"I don't know exactly. I cannot trust what they tell me."

"And what did they tell you?"

"He said nothing happened. She said they kissed."

Duchess Maria sighs softly. "I see. Mariusz often tries to keep secrets from me, but he rarely succeeds. I think, my dear, that I would know if he was maintaining a secret love affair. Whatever happened between the two of them, it may only have been... an unfortunate mistake."

"I will not tolerate infidelity," I say, "even if only a mistake. Or a dalliance."

"I am not asking you to. I do ask that before you decide you cannot forgive, you know precisely what it is you are being asked to forgive." She turns to go back into the palace. "It may require some faith in his truthfulness."

I cannot tell if she is angry with me or not. She seems less sympathetic than she had been at first, when she knew less. Perhaps she is offended I think her son a liar. But he is a liar. I know it. He lied to everyone about us consummating the marriage. He lied to me about writing to King Edmund. He lied to me about Celina. He lies by omission, by deed, by misdirection. Who knows what else he is hiding from me.

I go back to my apartments to wait for him to return. I cannot focus on any amusements, on reading or playing with my clothes or solitaire or even having a bath. I could go for a fast walk around the lake, but I don't want to miss Mariusz if he comes home early. The longer we delay this argument, the worse it will be.